Dear diary,

I died. That feels very weird to write. But it happened. 

I was dead.

Now I'm not.

A few hours ago, it was February 14th, 2017. There was snow on the ground and I died.

Now it is August 15th, 2016, and it is going to be 80 degrees outside today, and I am alive.

I know what happened...happened because of this journal. I didn't have it before, and the charm seems like something Death would like.

Yes, Death, she wasn't at all what I would have expected. You think of Death and imagine the image of the Grim Reaper. A tall, foreboding being wearing a black cloak and carrying a scythe.

Death was nothing like that. 

Death was bright and bubbly. She wore pastels and chibi skulls. Her hair was bubble gum pink.

Certainly not what one would expect of the being who guided dead souls and oversaw the dead to be so happy.

When I first saw her, it was moments after I had died, so I was already in shock, then was even more so when I saw her and learned who she is.

She'd been there, I guess, watching over me for a while. I'm not sure how long ago she took an interest in me, but it has been years. At least it was heavily implied she'd been watching me for years, possibly since I was a child.

Apparently, it wasn't my time and the events that had taken place weren't supposed to happen.

Which I'd like to agree with, getting stabbed in the heart by a loved family member shouldn't have happened.

But it did.

There was so much that I'd learned about and never acted on in the months coming. Things that wouldn't be erased because they'd happened years ago. Like that, my powers were bound and only a powerful event could undo the binding, or a coven performing an unbinding ritual. 

A powerful event like, for example, my death.

Or the fact that no one thought to explain to me that my powers were bound when my father died, because I inherited most of my magic from him and not my mother. So I had been thinking for years that I was a failure of a witch because I couldn't tap into my magic. When I literally had no access to that magic. Because my mother's family had been trying to get me to tap into the magic similar to their family, when my magic is not like theirs. Yes, I have enough of a connection that they were able to channel me, she is my mother after all, but not enough for me to do anything on my own.

They chose to try and convince me I was meant to be different and keeping me away from my father's coven that could have unlocked my magic. It should have happened when I turned thirteen, when most witches come into their magic. Instead, they neglected my magic, and me by not doing what they should have done.

Instead my power has been growing and pulsing, looking for a way out, a ticking bomb. The magic having no escape could cause a witch to slowly die an agonizing death, burned from the inside. Many witches could live an entire life and many would think they'd just died of old age. But those with more power, die much sooner.

Death revealed to me had I not died when I did, and had my magic been kept bound I would have died before I reached 25.

When I woke up in my childhood bed, I could feel a tingling under my skin, like something is waiting to burst out of me. My magic, I can feel it.

It wants to be used.

I guess there was a blessing in me dying. 

But I am nervous, as Death warned me I wouldn't be alone.

Someone else died moments after me, had time not seemed frozen to me. And they are somehow important...To me. 

What makes me nervous is the person who probably died, is also the person who ordered a knife through my heart.

I need to think, and be somewhere more comfortable. For the last several months I haven't felt comfortable in my home, I found out just after Christmas about my magic. I never confronted my mother or my grandmother. And both live here in this house. Both are asleep just down the hall.

What interesting restart to my eighteenth year of life…Or is it unlife?

~Lost and Confused Morrigan

I set my pen down and look over at the clock on my phone, it isn't even five yet. I woke here in this time just after three. The witching hour, how convenient a time to be brought back to life. I'm not tired, I probably should be but the sudden feeling of magic flowing through me is energizing. I need to do something and not be here. 

I'm not entirely sure what I am going to do but I just need to be somewhere else. Maybe once its day light and people are actually awake I can ask one of my friends if I can stay with them. 

Neither my mother or grandmother can really say anything, I am 18. 

Today.

I turned 18 today; it is my birthday.

I shake my head and start to quietly move around my room. First I get dressed in comfortable shorts, t-shirt, with a sports bra. Then I throw my dirty clothes into the hamper by my door. I grab a small duffle from my closet and start tossing in a week's worth of underwear, socks, several t-shirts, a pair of sweatpants, sleep shorts, and some more shorts, and one pair of jeans for just in case. There is just enough room in the duffle for me to put my lap blanket in it as well. I tuck my laptop away into my backpack, along with a brand new sketch book I got  last week in this time, I had been waiting to use it till my other one was filled. Art pencil bag, and my regular writing utensils bag. A blank notebook, my new journal. 

I put my usual rings on my fingers, and decide to put the necklace I'd been given after my father past away on. He'd worn it everyday, it was given to him on his thirteenth birthday. Not sure when I'll be back, push comes to shove I can just wash the clothes I have packed should I need to.

Silently I slip passed my mothers room, and into the bathroom and brush my teeth quickly, slipping my overnight bathroom bag into my duffle. The duffle is quite full now.

When I open the bathroom door I resist the urge to sigh in relief, neither my mother or grandmother have woken yet. Their lights remain off and the house is silent. Down stairs I go missing every step that makes noise. I turn and head to the kitchen and grab a granola bar on my way to the garage door. 

I slip my car key from the hook and slip out the door into the garage. I walk around the garage to the side door leading outside. This will allow me to avoid the front gate, which is rusty and possibly spelled to make a louder noise to wake people in the house. 

I finally allow myself to let out a sigh of relief as I walk down the driveway. There is a slight chill as it is still dark out. I don't mind it, as I walk to my car parked by the side of the road. Tossing my bag into the back seat I shut the driver side door, put the keys in the ignition and I'm off.

Honestly I'm not sure what I am doing, but I'm more sure of leaving than I am of encountering anyone in my family. I guess dieing puts things more into perspective. Well dieing and being brought to life by a cosmic being puts some stuff into perspective. 

Life is to short not to thrive.

And in the other life I lived I was existing, doing what others wanted of me and expected of me. Not this time. This time I will live, not for anyone else but myself.

Okay and maybe I'll live for Death. She did put in a lot of work for me to be brought back to life, going to Time to set the clock back. I guess I know who my main diety is. Death. Something feels wrong inside, like a tugging, when I think of only devoting myself to Death. Like there is someone else just as devoted to me as she is. I wonder if she could tell me? Why would a second cosmic being, or god, be interested in me? I'm still confused as to why Death is so interested in me to be honest.

Slowly I bring the car to a stop. Unconsiously I've brought myself to the woods. Where I was last night. Except instead of snow covering the ground there is grass and dirt.

I lean over the center counsel and open the glove compartment, I dig around and pull a flash light out. Then I grab my satchel bag, and exit the car. The sun won't be up for at least another hour if not two.  I set the bag onto the hood of the car and dig around my backseat, finding a light sweater, putting it on to fight of the slight chill. With the sweater on I sling the satchel across my body, and turn the flash light on.

Lone girl walking in the woods in the dark. I'm such a horror movie trope.

Though I'm not scared. I've walked these woods thousands of times, both by myself and with others.  I know exactly where I'm going, so there is no need to rush. No lives to save this early on this particular morning. Just taking in the darkness with a new perspective. About a mile into the woods, only about a fifteen to twenty minute walk to the location I have in mind.

To where I died.